


Your haunted heart and me

by phalangine



Category: Constantine (TV)
Genre: Getting Back Together, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Canon, renee is sipping wine and taking a bath and feeling good because this isn't her mess to clean up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 17:50:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15272958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phalangine/pseuds/phalangine
Summary: Nothing says "uphill battle" like trying to convince your best mate who hates your guts to agree to stop taking out his fear and anger at you on his child so she can get herself killed.





	Your haunted heart and me

John is in the middle of trying to pull a magic sword from a magic sheath- which isn’t its sheath, thus the problem- when the mill house door opens and Zed comes in.

She isn’t alone, though, and for once, the person with her isn’t a threat. It takes John a moment to recognize her, but when he does, his chest suddenly feels too tight.

“Geraldine?” John asks, setting aside the sword, though he knows it’s her. “What brings you all the way out here?”

The girl- she’s in her twenties now, an adult if not by much, but the last time John saw her, Geraldine hadn’t aged out of letting her father pick her up and spin her around, and it’s going to take time to adjust to this new version of her- drops her head and wipes her sleeve over one of her eyes.

Zed puts an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close. She’s allowed to do that because unlike John, Zed isn’t a glorified stranger to her.

“Her dad found out that she wants to change careers,” she explains, voice gentle. “They got in a fight. You know Chas.”

John does know Chas. Knows him better than John’s known anyone on this earth, alive or otherwise.

“And what is it you’re thinking of doing now, luv?” he asks, wracking his brain for what she was doing before.

Med school, he remembers. She was going to be a surgeon.

Looking up at him- she must have inherited her father’s penchant for looking unhappiness in the eye- Geraldine swallows and says, “I want to be an exorcist.”

John doesn’t swear. He wants to, but he doesn’t.

Exorcist… It’s the worst career choice Geraldine could possibly make. And not just because it’s dangerous and ultimately futile, spending your life taking evil out of the world with an eye dropper when what it needs is a blowtorch.

But when John looks at Geraldine, he sees the same good heart he sees in Zed.

The heart he fell in love with in Chas.

Being an exorcist, John’s learned in the years since he and Chas went heir different ways, is as much about caring as it is about knowing the right words to chant. You’ve got to care about what you’re doing and the people you’re doing it for. It isn’t a job you do by wrote.

That’s probably why he’s so bloody bad at it.

“He didn’t kick you out, did he?” John asks. He already knows the answer, but it’s good to be thorough.

Geraldine gives him a scandalized look. “Of course not.”

“That’s what I thought.” Nodding to himself, John starts looking around for his bag. “You make yourself at home, all right? Zed will keep you company while I go talk sense into your father.”

Zed catches his elbow as he passes. “Are you sure you should be the one who goes? You and Chas haven’t spoken in years.”

“That’s why I’ve got to be the one to go,” John counters. “It isn’t you who’s upsetting him. It isn’t even Geraldine. Not really.”

He’s right, and she knows it, so Zed nods and lets go.

“Come on, Geri,” she says, sliding her arm off Geraldine’s shoulder so she can take the girl’s hand. “I made John get Netflix and Hulu, and if we can’t find anything on those, we’ll steal it from somewhere else.”

The two of them head off, leaving John to pack in preparation for the worst fight of his life.

Nothing says "uphill battle" like trying to convince your best mate who hates your guts to agree to stop taking out his fear and anger at you on his child so she can get herself killed.

 

xx

 

The flight from Atlanta to New York City isn’t especially long, but it’s long enough for John to remember things he doesn’t want to remember.

Most of the blame for Chas’ departure from the mill house- and, larger, from John’s life- falls on John’s shoulders.

It wasn’t that Chas wanted to leave- it isn’t in his nature- but he didn’t have much of a choice. John was pushing him away in favor of Zed- in favor of not having to feel his heartbeat kicking up every time he looked at Chas and fighting the nausea of knowing it was pointless- and Chas was getting hit with the brunt of John’s distraction, forced to burn through souls like they were nothing.

There’s only one thing Chas cares about more than keeping John safe, and that’s being there for Geraldine.

It’s Chas’ only line, really. The one thing he won’t endanger. And John was making him choose between his best friend- and a life spent doing something to ease the guilt he felt about a spell he didn’t cast- and a guilty life spent raising his daughter.

It wasn’t much of a choice.

Renee probably threw a party when she found out.

John knows through Zed that Chas stripped everything supernatural out of Geraldine’s life that he could. Even the little things like harmless superstitions didn’t have a place in Chas’ home.

Yet here she is, a bright young thing, breaking daddy’s heart by running to the very danger he walked away from to protect her.

At least this time they won’t be yelling at each other in front of Zed.

 

xx

 

John knows, logically, that he should spend the night in a hotel room. It’s only four PM as he leaves the airport, so maybe he should play tourist for a while first, work off his extra energy from being cooped up for as long as he was. Then he can go to the hotel, conk out for the night, and wake up tomorrow, rested and ready to face Chas.

Hell, he could even find company for the night, or part of it.

Instead, he takes a taxi right to Chas’ front door.

He takes a deep breath and knocks.

The door opens almost immediately, but the person on the other side isn’t Chas.

Unless Chas got turned into a busty blonde in her twenties. Unlikely, especially considering the way she’s dressed. Chas loves pockets, and the mini skirt this bird is wearing hasn’t got any.

“Can I help you?” she asks, not quite unfriendly but not welcoming either.

“I’m looking for a friend of mine,” John says. “Chas Chandler.”

“Is he expecting you?”

“Just tell him John’s here, would you, luv? He’ll know what to do.”

Chas must know Geraldine would go to John, and John would be compelled- on his own or with a nudge from Zed- to come see him.

But who knows? Maybe Chas thought he was done with John for good.

He’s saved from further questions by Chas himself.

John doesn’t see him, but he hears Chas’ voice as he tells the bird to let John in.

She gives John a sharp look before she sidles past him, and John is so caught up in the unexpected venom that he almost misses the little boy holding her hand. He’s got big pink cheeks and thick brown hair and a familiar pair of blue eyes that knock the breath out of John’s lungs.

_This can’t be real._

John walks into Chas’ house feeling like a robot.

Chas is waiting one room over, which John quickly determines is the kitchen. The table is covered in crayons and markers and papers with a child’s drawings on them, and Chas is leaning over it, straightening things up.

John watches Chas collect them, and before he can’t stop himself, he says, “You tosser.”

Unfazed, Chas continues picking up the papers.

Hackles rising, John keeps pushing. “Really, Chas,” he drawls. “I never took you for the midlife crisis sort, but here you are. Proving me wrong.”

It’s none of John’s business. It isn’t even why he’s here. But he wants it to be.

Chas looks up this time, and while the lines in his face are a little deeper and there’s a touch of gray in his beard, he’s hardly changed since John saw him last. The weight of his gaze still makes John’s heart do stupid things.

He doesn’t look angry, which is odd. If anything, he just looks confused.

“What are you talking about, John?”

“The girl, Chas,” John snaps, hating what the sound of his name in Chas’ voice does to him. “The one I passed on the way in. She’s barely older than your daughter, mate. It’s weird.”

For a moment, Chas’ expression grows even more confused. Then he sighs and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That girl,” he says slowly, opening his eyes and dropping his hand, “is Clementine. She’s a friend of Geraldine’s.”

“And that makes it better, does it-”

“I babysit for her,” Chas says over him. “She’s a single mom and can’t afford daycare on top of her school expenses, so I volunteered to do it.” He looks down at the drawings in his hands, expression softening. “Hank’s a good kid, but he does need looking after.”

Swallowing hard, John asks, “So he’s not yours?”

It’s obvious from what Chas has said that the kid isn’t his, but some part of John needs to hear it.

“No, John, he isn’t mine,” Chas says flatly.

Flat isn’t bad, though. Flat isn’t angry.

John can work with flat.

“He does look a lot like you,” he points out.

Chas snorts. “He does, and Clementine is already threatening to teach him to call me grandpa, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say that where she’d hear it.”

There’s a smile at the corner of his mouth as he says it, and John is struck by just how much this suits Chas. Having a little kid to look after. Talking about being a grandfather.

Not getting murdered.

Clearing his throat, John reminds himself why he’s here.

“I spoke to Geraldine.”

“Yeah, I figured she’d come see you,” Chas replies, voice neutral. He doesn’t look at John as he speaks, focusing on cleaning up the table instead. “Zed’s with her, isn’t she?”

“She was when I left.”

Chas nods. “Good.”

“Good?” John echoes. “I thought you were angry about her becoming an exorcist?”

“I was, yeah,” Chas says. “But I’ve had time to think.”

That doesn’t sound like a very Chas thing to say, but it’s been so long, what does John know?

“What’ve you been thinking about?” John asks. He takes a step closer, out of the doorway and into the room.

Chas pauses for a second mid-reach for a marker before he completes the action. “I didn’t tell her not to become an exorcist because I was afraid she’d get hurt- Well, I was, but I’m her father. I’m afraid she’ll get hurt crossing the road. It’s what I do.”

John remembers the anxiety that tore Chas up when Geraldine was little. Every cough was pneumonia. Any time she tripped, she was going to break every bone in her body and get sepsis from the scrape on her knee. Chas was a disaster. Anyone other than Renee probably would have murdered him, but she found it sweet, according to one of their four conversations.

How Chas fretting himself sick was sweet was beyond John, but he wasn’t about to invite Renee to explore her relationship with the man he was in love with.

“If it wasn’t about her getting hurt, what _was_ it about?”

Chas sets the papers aside and plants his hands on the table, leaning his weight of them.

He’s still the most compelling man John’s ever known.

“How many exorcists do you know who’ve died happy?” he asks softly. “‘Cause I can’t think of any.”

None. John doesn’t know a single exorcist who hasn’t died bloody and miserable.

John bites back the urge to say Geraldine could be the first. She could be, sure, the way anything is possible, but possible and probable aren’t the same.

“I don’t want that for her,” Chas continues, taking John’s silence for what it is. “I don’t want her to spend so long staring down evil, she doesn’t recognize love when she sees it.” He swallows and fixes John with a hard look. “I don’t want Geraldine to turn into us. I want her to be happy and loved, like she deserves.”

“You don’t feel loved?” John asks, every other point sailing past him.

Chas sighs. “We’re still doing this, huh?”

“Doing what?”

“Pretending.”

John’s getting emotional whiplash, and his head is pounding. “Chas, mate, I really don’t have a single bloody clue what you’re talking about.”

Maybe there’s something in his voice that tips Chas off. Maybe it’s on his face. Maybe Chas is tired, too.

It doesn’t really matter. What does matter is the fact that Chas straightens up and says, “We’ve been pretending I haven’t been in love with you for, God, nearly thirty years.”

John’s stomach does something complicated and painful.

“You’ve been what?” he asks.

Crossing his arms across his chest, Chas lifts his chin like thinks John is going to object. “I’ve loved you since the day when Mucous Membrane was on tour and Ritchie tripped over a wire and dropped his drink. You gave him yours, then stole mine from me, and when I said you took it, you said it wasn’t all you’d steal from me.”

John doesn’t remember any of that, but it does sound like him.

“Are you saying I stole your heart?” he asks. That would have been on the nose, even for him.

“Along with all the cash in my wallet, which you also stole, yeah.”

Chas is starting to smile, and John’s heart is beating too fast.

“You really never noticed?” Chas asks, sounding amused. “Anne Marie and Ritchie picked up on it right away. So did Ritchie and Gary. Even Judith noticed, and she didn’t give a shit about me.”

“I was busy,” John points out.

“You must mean getting laid, because I know you weren’t doing anything related to being in a band.”

“At least I was getting laid.”

Chas lifts his brows. “You think I wasn’t?”

Of course he was. Big and broad and good with his hands- who wouldn’t want a bit of him? John certainly had more than one explicit fantasy about Chas before the band fell apart.

He’s glad to have lost count of the ones he’s had since.

“All right, well, I wasn’t exactly thinking you’d be into men,” John says. “You have a very straight vibe, mate.”

“My marriage fell apart because I couldn’t stay away from you.”

John opens his mouth but shuts it when he realizes he doesn’t have a snappy comeback.

If John’s marriage had gone down the shitter because he was in love with someone and the bastard hadn’t had the good grace to notice, he’d probably be furious. But Chas just looks vaguely amused.

John’s loves a lot of people in a lot of destructive ways. Chas is the only one he’s loved enough to try to build.

“Hey, Chas?”

“Yeah?”

“Being an exorcist… it’s not all loneliness and death.”

“Is that so?”

John nods. “Zed’s doing all right with Corrigan. And I know it’s not the best example, but my life hasn’t been entirely without good things.” Swallowing against the fear climbing up his throat, he add, “I’ve even found some of that love you think Geraldine won’t get. And if I can be loved, so can she.”

Chas has been relaxing, but the tension snaps back into his shoulders. “You did?”

“I did. Took me a good while to find it, though.” John steps closer. “And to be honest, I’m not sure if he’ll let me have it. I don’t deserve it, never have. But, Chas- I want it. And if he’d have me… I think I’d be a happy exorcist. At least until another friend gets killed.”

John continues walking forward as he speaks.

Chas holds his ground. “Why are you telling me this? Tell him.”

“I _am_ telling him.”

There’s no good reason for Chas to be wearing a flannel shirt in the summer, but John’s glad he is, because he’s spent years wondering how soft they are. If he’s only going to get this moment, then he wants to leave knowing what it feels like to touch Chas’ chest and feel the way he fills out that soft flannel.

It’s soft the way only something that’s been washed for years can be, and despite the air conditioning, the fabric is warm from the heat of Chas’ body.

Tipping his head back, John looks up at Chas. “I don’t know when I fell in love with you, but I did.”

“John…”

“If you can’t, then you can’t. But if you can…”

Laying both hands flat against Chas’ chest, John stretches up for a kiss.

It’s been a while since he kissed someone with a beard, but he isn’t complaining. Especially not when Chas is cupping John’s face and kissing him hard.

When Chas lets them break apart, John’s breathing hard.

“I can,” Chas says. “If you’ll let me, then yeah, I can.”

They aren’t being clear, and that’s probably going to be an issue at some point, but for now, it’s clear enough that John can make two men happy.

“What about Geraldine?” he asks, catching Chas’ chin when he ducks his head for another kiss.

“She’s her own person,” Chas sighs. “I’ll love her and support her regardless.”

John smiles. “Good man. Now why don’t you love and support me up in your bedroom?”

He hears Chas groan, but it’s a good groan. The kind of groan a man makes when he’s pretending not to be happy.

That’s good enough for John.

**Author's Note:**

> i said i wasn't going to post this, but here i am. posting it at 1:54 am because that's when people have good ideas


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